It’s happening again. The rooms have become too small. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes where we land mad and resentful and afraid. Human activity can be regenerative, and our productive capacities can be transformed We can stop this. We can reach for each other, and hold dropped leashes in our hands. We can do this. Together, population, fertility rates, mortality rates. We can stop this, industrial output, food production, resources. We can reach for each other, pollution, social conflict, disease.
It’s happening again. The rooms are filled with regrets. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes of righteousness and wrongs and too late. We know it’s not easy, and poses transition challenges, but a sustainable, and inclusive future, is still possible. We can stop this but it’ll take more than half of us. It’ll take more than hope. It’ll take all of us. Changing, our societal priorities, needs to expand, right now. It’ll take all of us. But we're so very small. It’ll take all of us. Let's be brave. Let's willing to take a risk. Let's be willing to fight. We are one.
It’s happening again. The rooms are littered with dust and mirrors. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes, impotent of responding, to global challenges.
We’re not looking at each other. We’re looking at our own reflection. We’re making footprints waiting for someone else to clean up. Counting steps. Brushing away hairs. Smiling into our teacups. We think school will help. We think a job will help. We think a spouse will help. We think a new place to live will help.We think a baby will help. We think love love love will help.
It’s happening again. The rooms are filled with bodies. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes that have no exit when we choose not to act. The odds are on a knife’s edge. The development, and deployment, of vaccines, at unprecedented rates, demonstrates that we are capable. Arms spread out. Waiting to be crucified. Expecting it really. Who has the hammer? The nails? The guts? The stone un thrown? Who has the chisel? The wood? The space? Who will cover the body? Burn the cloths? Dig the hole? Who who who will help?
It’s happening again. The rooms are overflowing puddles. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes wrapped like a present bouncing around in a box. Scratching at the corners to find a way out. Knowing deep down that the only way is through. Squinting our eyes. Hiding under a cocktail. Lying to our friends. How excessive must the temperatures go? When will the water levels be too high? Where will we throw our garbage? Who’s funeral will it be enough? How much do we want to live? And who do we live for? And do we even understand what that means?
It’s happening again. The rooms are filled with regrets. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes of righteousness and wrongs and too late. We know it’s not easy, and poses transition challenges, but a sustainable, and inclusive future, is still possible. We can stop this but it’ll take more than half of us. It’ll take more than hope. It’ll take all of us. Changing, our societal priorities, needs to expand, right now. It’ll take all of us. But we're so very small. It’ll take all of us. Let's be brave. Let's willing to take a risk. Let's be willing to fight. We are one.
It’s happening again. The rooms are littered with dust and mirrors. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes, impotent of responding, to global challenges.
We’re not looking at each other. We’re looking at our own reflection. We’re making footprints waiting for someone else to clean up. Counting steps. Brushing away hairs. Smiling into our teacups. We think school will help. We think a job will help. We think a spouse will help. We think a new place to live will help.We think a baby will help. We think love love love will help.
It’s happening again. The rooms are filled with bodies. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes that have no exit when we choose not to act. The odds are on a knife’s edge. The development, and deployment, of vaccines, at unprecedented rates, demonstrates that we are capable. Arms spread out. Waiting to be crucified. Expecting it really. Who has the hammer? The nails? The guts? The stone un thrown? Who has the chisel? The wood? The space? Who will cover the body? Burn the cloths? Dig the hole? Who who who will help?
It’s happening again. The rooms are overflowing puddles. We hold our breath as we walk by. We spiral down holes wrapped like a present bouncing around in a box. Scratching at the corners to find a way out. Knowing deep down that the only way is through. Squinting our eyes. Hiding under a cocktail. Lying to our friends. How excessive must the temperatures go? When will the water levels be too high? Where will we throw our garbage? Who’s funeral will it be enough? How much do we want to live? And who do we live for? And do we even understand what that means?
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